Soft Fist.
The Hyūga clan's signature taijutsu, perfected alongside their Byakugan, allows them to inject pinpoint bursts of chakra directly into an opponent's body, crippling the tenketsu network, rupturing meridians, and damaging vital organs.
One strike can mean the difference between life and death.
Uchiha Duan's body was famed for its resilience—immune to most blades, resistant to flame and water alike. But no amount of training could harden internal organs. In theory, a single clean Gentle Fist strike could end him.
To Hyūga Genbu, that made him the perfect target.
That belief shattered in an instant.
As Genbu's palm slammed home, his Byakugan registered something abnormal—beneath Duan's skin lay a fascia layer thicker than cowhide, suffused with dense Yang Release chakra. It formed a living armor, a second defense that blunted the chakra flow of the Gentle Fist.
The Hyūga's strike pierced skin, but it could not breach the inner barrier.
And in truth—even if his chakra had reached Duan's organs—it would not have been fatal. Duan had long since devised his own brutal regimen to strengthen the heart, lungs, and other internal systems, training them far beyond human limits.
It was this unorthodox self-cultivation that let him face a Gentle Fist head-on without flinching.
The depth of his anatomical research was something these Root operatives could not even imagine.
> "So this is the vaunted Gentle Fist? Hyūga shinobi don't even hit hard, yet dare to claim parity with the Uchiha?"
His Sharingan darkened to a deeper crimson, locking onto Genbu like a predator sighting prey.
The Hyūga's instincts screamed danger. He leapt back seven, eight meters—yet Duan advanced without pause.
Shua!
A broad hand shot forward, five fingers twitching in subtle, high-frequency vibrations, like an illusion in motion, and clamped toward Genbu's throat.
Duan had used this move once before—in a sparring match with his nephew, Uchiha Itachi. It was the culmination of a decade of development:
Yin Release: Phantom Body Technique.
Genbu's vision swam the moment he glimpsed Duan's palm. No Sharingan tomoe caught his gaze—yet a genjutsu had taken hold. When awareness returned, an iron grip was crushing his windpipe.
Like an eagle seizing a chick.
Why…? I didn't even look into his eyes…
That was his final thought before—crack—his neck snapped, and darkness claimed him.
Duan tossed the corpse aside without ceremony.
Two left.
---
A shadow snaked toward him along the ground, merging seamlessly with his own. A sudden invisible force locked his movements—
The Nara clan's Shadow Imitation Technique.
Hn?
Looking down, he saw the black tether rising up his legs like a rope, freezing his muscles in place.
From above, the Akimichi he'd knocked away earlier had launched himself high, hands flying through seals. His frame ballooned under the Multi-Size Technique, limbs retracting as red hair stiffened into a forest of spikes.
An enormous, spined sphere plummeted toward Duan, then rolled forward with the momentum to pulverize anything in its path.
Spiked Human Bullet Tank.
In that instant, the Root duo poured all their chakra into a kill. One bound the target; the other became the hammer.
Duan didn't panic. Drawing on sheer muscle power, he forced part of his body to break free from the shadow's hold.
He raised one foot and drove it down.
BOOM!
The stomp split the earth into a spiderweb of cracks, heaving clods of soil into the air. The shift in terrain severed the Nara's shadow link.
Freedom returned.
The spinning spiked ball thundered toward him. He could have sidestepped easily—yet he chose not to.
Instead, he stepped in.
He dropped his stance, shoulder low, arms locked, knees bent—every joint aligned into a single unyielding line. His whole body became a weapon, forged solid as steel.
Iron Mountain Lean.
No fists, no kicks—just a full-body smash, like a massive bull crashing into a mountainside.
The impact whipped up a gale, howling across the clearing.
BANG!
The Iron Mountain met the Spiked Human Bullet Tank.
Duan stood unmoved, legs rooted like pillars. The Akimichi's rotation slowed, wheels spinning uselessly against an immovable wall.
The deadlock lasted a heartbeat.
Then Duan's power surged. The spiked sphere was launched back, a cannonball slamming into a distant cliffside.
CRASH!
The Akimichi's limbs splayed open. Blood trickled from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. He slid down the rock and moved no more.
Shua.
Duan vanished and reappeared before the Nara. A single hand chopped forward like a blade.
The man tried to dodge—but warm blood sprayed from his throat before he could move.
The last Root operative collapsed.
---
It was over.
The entire elite unit—Danzo's personal strike team—wiped out. It included the famed "Ino–Shika–Chō" combination, augmented by a Hyūga specialist whose Gentle Fist was meant to be Duan's counter.
Root truly was a collection of Konoha's finest talents.
Danzo had long exploited the Sandaime's indulgence, recruiting from every major clan under the pretense of Anbu's "training division." Hyūga among Root was rare, but not impossible. After all, even the Uchiha clan's heir, Itachi, had been drawn into Danzo's orbit.
Compared to that, a single Hyūga joining Root was hardly shocking.
---
With the battlefield quiet, Duan gathered the bodies. He intended to deliver them to the black market exchange.
He had been careful—using just enough force to kill without mangling the remains. Intact corpses fetched the best price.
Suddenly—footsteps from the treeline.
Another enemy?
He turned.
From behind a thick trunk, Aburame Ryōma emerged, hands buried in his pockets. Whether it was his mastery of suppressing presence or simply a natural absence of aura, Duan had never noticed him there until now.